When We Grew Up
by NeverEndingStoryCS
Summary: It's four months after Edward left and with no visible progress in Bella, Charlie feels he has no choice but to get her better help. Feminine help. But with Renee off touring the world with Phil, what else is there? In a last ditch attempt, there's Francine Higginbottom, Renee's older sister. Where to driver? Mystic Falls. NM&TVD season 3. Bella
1. Chapter 1

When I Grew Up

Prologue:

"_What do you wanna be when you grow up?" Turning my head, I stare up at the face of my best friend. _

_She looks down at me with her serious brown eyes and purses her cupids-bow lips, making the sparkly lip-balm wrinkle and smear around her lips._

"_I dunno something special. I wanna be… inde- idne. _Independent. _Like my mommy, but better." She smiles widely, her tongue poking through the gap in her front teeth, "What 'bout you." Little fingers shred a rain of daisy petals and I duteously shift and shuffle the mess away before looking down at my half-finished daisy chain. _

"_Hmm, I thought about it. But then I didn't, but then sometimes I wanna by a cop like daddy, but then that's real dangerous. I wanna be special too. _Way _better than _my _mommy." My little hands form pale fists around the twining daisies, crushing them sadly. Elena tries to cover her snigger behind her palm. I don't think she knows I wasn't joking._

_A flutter of blonde hair and sun kissed skin twirls in our line of vision and thumps onto the green grass lightly. Her sandaled feet flick out over my crossed legs and she smiles her pageant smile at us._

"_I want a good husband. One that'll pay for all the good stuff. One that'll buy me pretty jewel-ally and dresses._ _That's what every girl needs. Like my daddy does, but better." With twinkling blue eyes she laughs and we laugh with her, but not before we share a look. The Caroline-look. With a pity-tilted head and an over exaggerated eye roll._

_And then we're joined by a tired looking Bonnie, her dark hair slicked back in two buns on each side of her head, it's pretty and I fiddle with my poorly done pigtails in envy. _

"_What about you Bon? What'd you wanna be when you grow up?" She sighs heavily and lifts her shoulders high before dropping them and resting her head on Elena's shoulder. _

"_Anything but my Grandma. She's nuts." Elena pats her head, but we all look over to where the adults twist and sway around in groups. Dressed in pretty sundresses and full of exaggerated laughter. And then to Bonnie's Grandma, who's given a wide berth, her and the Cuckoo Crew as their lovingly dubbed._

_Famed for telling crazy stories and cursing Tyler Lockwood when he TP'd her house last Halloween._

_But we're only ten years old. And everything's easy when you're ten. Nobody really cares what we'll be when we grow up. Maybe a princess or a fireman. We never knew what was coming. Certainly not way back when and to be perfectly honest, we barely not what's going on now._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One:

Four months.

Four months and _nothing. _

I'm not waiting for anything, not really. I know nothing is coming for me. But it would be nice. If there was a sign that they actually cared.

_A clean break._

Clean breaks are horrible. And painful. And the make me throw up.

I try, for Charlie and for myself. I smile when necessary and answer moms many emails on her _fabulous _trip.

But Charlie knows, he's home too much and his own smiles are strained. Always watching, his moustache tweaking with words he just can't seems to verbalise.

"Hey honey…" And then he'll shake his head and look down, "Eat with me."

I should be worried about him, but these days it takes me to change my clothes and remember to brush my teeth.

3:30am.

Just three more hours before it's socially acceptable to get up. I would get up now, but Charlie would know, he has a 'Bella-Censor'. I can't even hide my half eaten dinners from him anymore.

-WWGU-

"Bella, honey. You awake?" There's a soft knock on my door and I twist my achy neck towards the noise. He knows I'm awake, he always does.

Peeking at the clock, the green letters glare 6:27am at me. Where did the last three hours go? My eyes are dry and grainy so I know I never slept, but I can't remember thinking anything either.

"Yeah." I croak just as he opens the door a smidge and sticks his head around the frame.

"Um, you won't need to head into school today. You… didn't look very well last night. Figured you could use a lie in." His eyes shift guiltily, his hands clawed around the wooden frame. I always look unwell, what's the change today.

But I don't say anything other than a grainy, "Sure." Before my head creaks back to its previous position, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

"Okay, see you at breakfast." He seems at a loss for more words and I can't find it in myself to give him some. So I stay silent as he stays in the doorway, his stubby fingers thumping against the wood in agitation.

-WWGU-

"Bella? Sweetie? Are you even listening to me?" My head is pounding and I'm staring down at a bowl of soggy Cheerio's.

"Bella?"

My head snaps up and I stare over the table to where Charlie seems to cringe at my sudden attention, clearing his throat and sitting forward in his chair.

"Um, well, I have some, possibly upsetting news for you, Isabella."

Charlie only uses my full name when I've done something wrong or he has. I know I haven't.

"You're leaving."

Silence.

And then my spoon clatters towards the bowl, I watch as the metal stem bounces against the glass rim and flips over the side, landing on the wood top in a pool of milk and one lone, escaped Cheerio.

Cheerio overboard.

"Bella? Are you even listening to me?" He's upset, but I can't look at him, so, digging one of my savaged nails into the grainy surface, I sniff and squeeze my eyes closed.

"I'm not leaving. You can't make me and plus, where would I go? Mom's off in Italy and I'm not going there and she's not coming home. We already had this conversation dad."

At first I don't think he even heard me and I almost repeat it in fear that the whole sentence was simply one I had in my own head. It wouldn't be the first time.

Then Charlie lets out a bitter chuckle, "That's the most I've heard from you in two weeks. _Two weeks." _His words are heavy and I think he might be crying, I can't bring myself to confirm or deny my suspicions.

"I can't… I can't do it Bella. I can't sit back and watch you waste away. Not my own daughter. Not my baby. I can't watch as you pine over something that's long gone-"

"You do." I interrupt, throwing in words that might make or break my last leg, "You're still waiting for mom to drive up and throw herself back into your arms. You sit and pine in Podunk Forks, Charlie. I'm just leading by example." My words cut through my own heart.

But I can't leave. I can't leave _his _memory behind. It'll kill me.

He doesn't blow up, he doesn't tell me I'm being immature – and I am, he just sighs a fatherly sigh and I listen as he pushes his own bowl away and his chair.

"That is true, but as your father, it is my job to do what's best for you," his scruffy hand comes over and fold over my skinny one, my knuckles protruding shamefully and my nails brittle from lack of proper nutrition.

"You are… _so _much better than him. He is a coward and I can't let you stay here for a coward." Salty tears squeeze free from my stinging eyes and I sniffle, trying my damndest to keep them at bay. "You are worth more than Forks, pumpkin."

"I can't leave." Is all I can sob forth and his hands squeezes mine tight.

"I'm not good at this stuff, but… I'll give it a go.

"When you were little, you fell down a lot. And so, I kept plasters on me at all times, you'd demand that I have them. So that, when you fell over, I'd always have some on hand to patch you up." His hand disappears from mine and is back moments later, in his palm are crumpled, flesh coloured bandages.

"I used to love that you relied on me to make you feel all better. But now, I don't know what to do, Bella. I can't kiss your cut all better and it is _killing me. _And it might be selfish of me and you might think that I'm pawning you off. But I can't look at you every day and feel so hopeless.

"You've got three months. I'm toughening up. Three months away will do you good elsewhere. I'll call every day. And plus, you used to love it there. Renee and Francine said you had lots of friends in Mystic Falls."

My tears run dry and I slide my hand free of Charlie's.

Mystic Falls.

I remember the sunny summers and the barbeques. I remember Elena and Caroline and Bonnie.

I remember blushing when Tyler Lockwood and Matt Donavon tugged our pigtails and homemade oatmeal cookies.

Every memory I have of Mystic Falls is good.

I don't want to go there and sully those memories with my broken heart.

Looking up, I'm ready to defend my right to stay.

But then I see Charlie. I really _see _him.

His slightly greying hair is now twice as grey and the wrinkles around his eyes are thick, heavy purple bags puff out under them both and it all making him look ten years older.

And it's not just that. He looks so thoroughly _broken._

My mouth snaps shut. He takes that as admission, nodding happily and sitting back.

"Your plane leaves at three. I've already packed most of your things. Finish up; we're leaving in two hours."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, followed and/or reviewed! It means so much to me and I meant to reply to you all, but my Internet sucks. But THANK YOU! SO MUCH! **

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own The Vampire Diaries or Twilight, sadly.**

Chapter One:

Changed, sort of.

We finally stop in front of the airport, the rain battering the cruisers window typically. Dad turns to me, heaving a sigh, his hands balled tightly around the steering wheel.

His weary eyes scan my face and he sighs once more, quieter this time. "I was going to come with you, I had a bag packed and everything but… Francine said I'd just nit-pick and drag you back to Forks. She's right… so be careful."

My head nods stiffly, it's all I can force myself to do. I feel tethered to Forks, like if I leave another part of me will die and so much is broken all ready, anything else will surely kill me.

When I don't say anything, he sighs again and one of his hands floats over to rest on my arm stiffly, "It's for the best and I know you might hate me right now. I hate myself for letting it get this bad, but you'll benefit from it. Francine is great and her daughter Lacey is a good kid. She'll meet you at the airport."

I remember Lacey, vaguely. I remember crazy black curls always tamed into a strange, intricate plait down her back, a tuft curly frizz at the bottom where the black band was twisted. And I remember waking up every morning to find her living in the oak tree in the back yard, making strange croaks that resembled bird calls.

Tugging the metal door handle, I attempt to throw it open, but it barely opens, leaving me with a less than stellar exit, in fact, _I _even find it pitiful.

When I finally get out of the seat, Charlie's already waiting at the trunk with my old battered suitcase, the very same one that held my meagre means when I first arrived.

He offers to help me into the terminal with it, but I know it'll just make it ten times harder for both of us, so, with what I hope is a sad smile and a soft breath of _'no thanks'_, I grab my bag from him.

Just as I turn to trudge inside, he stops me with his hand, so much touching, I'm not used to that with Charlie, he's been especially tentative, I relied on his inability to do be so touchy-feely before.

"I love ya, kiddo. Knock em' dead in Virginia." He looks so sad, but so hopeful, that somehow Mystic Falls will be my big fix, will bend my broken heart and in turn mend his.

"I'll try." I whisper into the wind, but it isn't my poor response that suddenly crumples his face with agony. It's my ability to tell him I love him too. I do, but I can't see myself telling him so. Not right now.

Finally, I muster the strength to turn my back and walk through the busy automatic doors.

-WWGU—

Someone is shaking my shoulder violently, digging fingers into my thin shoulder and rocking me like a rag doll.

My eyes roll forward and slowly open, meeting the shaking frame of a young, plump man with a sour scowl.

"Miss, the plane has landed." He says in a clipped tone, still shaking me as I stare up at him dumbly.

"Hel-lo?! Can't you hear me? You've gotta get off now."

I was always under the impression that flight attendants' were jolly folk with toothpaste commercial smiles, dancing as they make light of the emergency exits.

I give him a sloppy nod and shake off his grip, shimmying towards him and the aisle that leads to the exit. He backs off, turning to waddle down in the opposite direction, shaking his head the whole way.

I don't remember the flight, or what the passenger sitting next to me looked like, I don't remember if I was offered a beverage or if anybody spoke to me. And maybe that worries me, but I'm still drowning in the grief of leaving Forks, the grief that I somehow maintained during the flight by blacking out.

And then, as I wait beside the spinning carousel that rotates a multitude of colourful suitcases, my head swims with four words, dancing around my head like little fire ants.

"_I love ya, kiddo.I love ya, kiddo.I love, kiddo." _

I imagine myself back there, his rough hand clasping my hand and his voice gruff. I imagine saying it back and him hugging me, kissing my forehead in a fatherly manner and then him telling me that I don't have to leave after all, that'll we'll work this out like two adults.

But I didn't say it back, I played the pitiful teenagers and now he's probably drowning his sorrows at the diner or doing overtime at the station, waiting for criminal cases that will never come.

Just as I hulk my battered, leather-cracked case over the metal edge, a hand taps my shoulder softly and the case tumbles from my grip in surprise, clanging against the conveyer belt and spinning off and away from my grip.

But I don't care about the case, not really. I'm too busy panicking as the person taps again, a little softer this time.

I spin around, coming face-to-face with a girl that is familiar, but isn't really.

Her face is different, more angular than I remember. And her eyes are different, sort of. They're that same striking shade of grey that both her and her mother share, but these eyes are rimmed so heavily with kohl liner that I can barely see them under it all. I stumble backwards, my butt hitting the metal carousel edge behind me.

"Hi." Such a perfectly normal greeting, I expected something spectacular to come from her exotic face, something in perhaps French or maybe Latin.

I nod at her and she squints, stepping back to survey my appearance.

"You're Bella, right? You look like Aunt Nay-Nay; your mom. I knew it was you across the way. Couldn't miss you, even though you are awfully skinny." She giggles at her own attempt at humour, rolling her panda eyes while I try to keep up with her endless spouting of words.

_So many words! _

And I'm suddenly very aware that of course there'd be lots of words. It's in her blood. Every Higginbottom has the ability to talk for hours on end about everything and nothing; they also suck at keeping secrets. Those traits are obviously lost in me, though I am a Higginbottom, sort of.

"… Nay-Nay has been calling for like the last month, she thought this place would be your saving grace and mom agreed, of course she did, she always agrees with Nay-Nay. Though of course I told them that was ridiculous, but you know how your mom and my mom gets. Once they have an idea, it's pretty much _impossible _to make them forget it. You get, right?"

I just keep nodding, nodding and nodding until I feel like my heads about to nod off and I realise we're in the parking lot and Lacey has my suitcase clutched in her skinny, pale arm.

We're standing in front of a crusty looking Toyota, Lacey seems to catch my staring and she's off again, rambling incessantly.

"I _know _it's not the prettiest looking vehicle, but my old babysitter was gonna have it scrapped and I just couldn't let that happen to this thing, I dunno, I guess I just didn't want it to die. Don't worry, she runs like a charm and she has character. All the ugly ones do. You can borrow it sometime of you like, but only if you're careful, she can be temperamental…"

And on and on, but I don't mind living in my head sometimes. At least we have one thing in common, sort of. We both have a love for things old. Me in more ways than old rusted cars.

"… and Michael was like, 'I ain't sitting in this _thang', _and I was like 'whatever Mike. If you don't like it you can walk it because her right there, she means more to me than your sweet behind'- Hey are you even listening? Am I talking too much? I am, aren't I. Goddamn it! My mom keeps telling me that everybody is different and that maybe I should tone it down. There I go again. Feel free to tell me to shut up."

_Shut up._

I don't say it out loud, but still, it felt good to say it, even internally.

She doesn't shut up though, she flies off into a little tangent about how her mom also told her that the aluminium in take-out cartons can lead to Dementia and that too much processed meat can lead to bowl cancer. How very pleasing.

But now we're stuck in her little car that smells of old pine freshener and de-icer spray, mixed with a musky rose perfume that I can assume is Lacey's because it certainly isn't mine and bubble-gum.

"So… Bella Swan? Last time I saw you. You were having an almost kiss with Tyler Lockwood while I camped out in my tree. You still, maybe got the hotts for little Lockwood, 'course, he ain't so little anymore, I can assure you. Guy is _smoking." _She gives off a low whistle, laughing and smacking her bubble-gum as she looks out the windshield wistfully.

I'd forgotten all about that night with Tyler. I'd never even thought of it in so long that it took a minute or two to even believe Lacey's words. My almost first kiss. With Tyler Lockwood. Under an old tree in a perfectly plucked front yard, all because Caroline Forbes had stolen my hair pin and Tyler Lockwood had went to great lengths to get it back, to then demand the price of a kiss in return for my butterfly clip with real moving wings.

Of course, if it weren't for Lacey and her meddling ways, I wouldn't have only been kissed by one 'person' –ache- in my whole life. I'd have been kissed by two. Though one would never have matched the other. I guarantee it.

And then the car makes a screeching noise as it comes to a halt and Lacey is _still _talking, but now she's getting out of the car and skipping around the side to open my door for me, like a true gentle-woman.

"You'll love your new room Belly. Mom said we should share, but I told her that was crazy. Teenagers need their space. So, yeah, you'll love it. It'll… _brighten… _your day." She, again, sniggers at some inside joke and I wonder if perhaps I'm not the only one that's a little scrambled in the head.

And then I'm barrelled at the side in a rib-shattering hug that threatens to pop my eyeballs from the sockets and it reminds me that Lacey is a Higginbottom and all Higginbottoms' are a little scrambled, its part of the flighty, flaky Higginbottom package. You win some, you lose some. But at least they look happy. Really happy.

"Oh baby, you're so _thin. _You've always been a little waif like but Belly, have you been inhaling fumes in place of home-cooked meals? Is that Charlie? Is he flaking on your nurturing needs, do I need to have a _talk _with that man?" Typical Higginbottom, never one to beat around the bush. "I'm so glad you're here. So glad. I've been waiting on that damned porch for ages. What 'd you do Lace, crawl home?"

Lacey just laughs indulgently as I extract Francine's arms from my waist. She looks exactly like she did when I last saw her. The same shade of brown as my mother, but with a smattering of grey around the temples, her face still lighting up with each dimpled smile she gives. Though the crow's feet around her eyes are deeper, as are the lines around her mouth.

She's aunt Francy and I just want to stick my pinkies in her dimples like I used to and tell her how I envy them. And I want her to tell me that she'll trade her dimples for my brown eyes.

But she doesn't because she's looking at my frail state like I'm about to crumple into dust and holding my arms like I'm about to shatter into smithereens.

My eyes are too dull to be worth trading. How utterly heart-breaking. How utterly predictable.

They're both the same, but so very different and it hurts that I missed it all. And it hurts that I can't appreciate their graceful maturity properly because I'm still having a battle with my own emotions.

And then I catch Lacey as she skips up the cobblestone path and her black curls, tamed into a perfect, intricately braided plait down her back and I feel that familiar envy that I assumed was lost.

Yeah, they've changed, sort of.

**So this is just basically in introduction to the people that Bella calls family and a little insight to her life with them and their characters. Yeah it doesn't have any of the juicy TVD characters yet, but next chapter will reveal them and their reactions to her arrival. A Big Reunion? Maybe even a party. Will Damon be there? Guess you'll have to read and find out! Dun, Dun, Dun! **


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